To Be a Lightning that Strikes
by tomfoolish
Summary: Distrust leads to distorted relationship. Slash.
1. Excoriations

Disclaimer:      Surprisingly, all the characters belong to J.K. Rowling

_Author:            Minstrel_

Pairing:           Draco/Harry 

_Summary:        Distrust leads to distorted relationship. _

_Rating:            PG-13_

_Feedback:       Most welcome_

_Note:               Italics are used to denote thoughts. Both Draco's and Harry's._

To be a lightning that strikes 

Chapter one: Excoriations

Sharp, exploding pain was the only thing he could sense when he woke up. Unable to handle the pain he lay still, in the zone between burning consciousness and sweet, consoling darkness. 

Then it struck him like a lightning. Actually, like a thousand little thunderbolts. He had killed Voldemort. It had been tough, but he had done it. Defeated the Dark Lord. And as a memory of the incident he had got his body carved with a thousand more lightning-shaped scars radiating the intolerable pain he was experiencing at the moment.

_This must be what it feels like to be struck by lightning, _he thought. _Or, to be a lightning that strikes. _With these thoughts he blacked out.

Lot of things had happened lately. Just when the Aurors had got sure of capturing all the old Death Eaters the situation had suddenly gone worse. Voldemort had stricken with enormous power of unknown source, taking over Azkaban and even attracting numerous new supporters from the rows of young Slytherin and Durmstrang students. The most shocking thing had probably been the former students of Gryffindor turning into fanatic supporters of the Dark Lord. The fear of not knowing who is in which side rose again. Instability of the situation had caused closing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Instead, it had been transformed into a safe haven for needy.

Harry's closest friends had sufffered a lot. Sirius had been captured –first by the Ministry of Magic, later by the Death Eaters- and he had been experiencing another period among the Dementors in Azkaban. After Percy's change to the other side all the Weasleys had been continuously alert but still they hadn't managed to protect Ron from being abducted and imprisoned to lure Harry to peril. Harry had no information of Hermione; she had disappeared at the time of a battle where both sides had had great losses. The message about Lucius Malfoy's death was a relief, but unluckily he had hexed Albus Dumbledore lethally in the battle before departing this life. After that, everything had fallen to pieces.

It was more than miracle that Voldemort was defeated. It was impossible.

Harry dreamed of silver. Silver beams of moon, flowing through his hands. Beams condensing into silvery fluid, covering his wounded body with its revitalizing force. The silver stream ran above his face, over his neck and then descending down his chest. It felt wonderful. He reached to touch the silvery matter which reminded him of the healing tears of Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes.

His hand hit something very solid creating a wave of sparkling pain to go through his arm. He felt like swearing. "Darn," he managed to sigh. It took him several seconds to open his eyes and realize what he had hit. The graceful silver materialized into _his_ hair. His worst enemy, his nightmare. "You."

"Isn't it delightful to meet again?" Draco Malfoy asked.

The pain made Harry numb, unable to respond.

"I've always known that expressing yourself is not one of your best sides. Mighty and valiant Potter, worshipped and wonderful. Not at any rate because of your speech skills, only of your silly reputation---"

Harry closed his eyes, pretending passing out.

The final battle had taken place in Azkaban. Harry had tracked Voldemort there, aiming only at rescuing Ron. Still, he had been thinking about Voldemort for long hours. What would it be like to meet him again? Could he finally revenge his parents' death? He had simply wised for destroying him. Once and for all. And now when he had done it, it just seemed unbelievable. It couldn't be true. But what was true, then? Harry forced himself to deal the pain and confront Malfoy. Gathering all the strength he could he flung out first insult he could come up with. 

"You've done something to your hair. It looks like an overgrown brush," Harry said noting Malfoy's renewed hairstyle, but it didn't reach anything that would match the word insulting, even in Harry's own opinion.

"Yeah. I preferred to have it in the way my father used to have his hair. It has proven out to be a total girl-magnet."

Harry answered only with a look of disgust.

"You know, I'm cooler than ever before. And the fact that you wiped the big one out of my way, so, frankly speaking, I have the power. I'm in charge now. I rule the whole wizarding society." Malfoy said with total self-confidence. A sparkle flickered in his eyes when he continued. "And above all, I rule you."

This time Harry had had enough of Malfoy and let the darkness take him over. 

The pieces of the puzzle started to fit. That's why it was so easy. Malfoy had helped him; Malfoy had prevented Voldemort to have the aid of his servants. _Malfoy. The one always picking on me, the one making my life hell. Now he's got me._

His mind wandered to the time before he had come to Azkaban. It hadn't been a surprise when Percy had changed the side in his thirst for power if one had listened to his rhapsodies. Even though his late idol, Mr Crouch, was an Auror, famous for his upright methods to catch the Death Eaters, Percy couldn't see a single thing holding him. So-called good side was definitely losing this time. All his brothers –especially those mocking, disgusting twins- would see that he had guts and he could reach something that others could only dream of. As a token of his loyalty, Percy had captured his youngest brother Ron. A bait for Harry.

Harry had known all this, but still he went after his best friend. Met Voldemort again. On his ground. Face to face. It hadn't been as horrifying as earlier, but still... There was the excruciating pain. Agony. But he hadn't bent. Keeping his mind he had resisted all the curses and jinxes. They had fought, and he had won. He wasn't even sure what he had actually done to overcome Voldemort, or was he even the one who had done it… He had no memory of doing anything crucially violent, anything able to kill. _It must've been Ron._

"Ron," he breathed out.

"Not here," said the cold voice.

"Where… is he?"

"Not here. Nothing outside this door exists to you. I'm here, you're here, and you're weak. Nothing more in your world now."

"You irritating git! I'm… not… WEAK!"

_Irritating? Uh?_

"But you are, darling." 

Draco caressed Harry's wounded chin. Unable to escape his touch, Harry closed his eyes and gathered strength to resist. The soft, slender fingertips felt so caring, just like the touch by Sirius once long ago… What was he thinking? Malfoy's touch pleasant, even desirable? He must have lost it. Mentally injured in the battle.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"No-"

"Don't even try to deny it, Potter. I can read your expressions. Who could ever not understand that countenance?"

"Don't-"

"But I do. Did I hear you asking for more?"

Draco lay down next to Harry on cold stone floor. For the first time Harry got grasp on place where he was. It was still Azkaban, the place where they had kept Ron. The place full of Dementors, backing Voldemort since his second rise to power. This must be one of the numerous cells, he deduced. Windowless, dark, magically locked. Nevertheless he could distinguish Malfoy. Malfoy, who lay next to him shimmered pale, silver light. People like him made themselves visible when needed. And the other way round as well.

Harry felt uncomfortable. Not only because of slim boy close to him trying to touch, but also because he lay on something sharp. His first reaction was to reach for it, displace the object beneath him. Then he realized that he didn't want to find out what there was on floor. In this kind of places it's better not to know.

The floor radiating cold and the bleeding of all the wounds made Harry shiver. His muscles were strained, exhaustion invaded his body. He couldn't resist the ease he got from Malfoy warming him. The touching part was a little pest if he could feel any better.

Harry allowed himself relax as he understood that there was no way escaping in such a condition. He noticed Malfoy becoming more familiar when he let the tension of his muscles pass. His hands on Harry's abdomen, his chest, his neck. His long hair tickling his ear. Everything started to feel right. Malfoy was warming him, his parents' death was revenged, life would be fine. He moved closer to Malfoy, intending to find more room from his lap. He wished to feel Malfoy's arms around him. Harry was so cold. 

Please, come closer. No one has been so kind to me as you are now…you bring me joy. Consolation. Comfort. 

He suddenly felt sad about not realizing the effect of the physical contact before. He was plainly happy and involuntarily shad a tear. 

Instantly he could sense Malfoy's touch change. The grip of his arms loosened a bit, the arms moved correcting their position and the grip firmed again. His arm was around Harry's body and another went through the black hair. His head was close to Harry's, and their hair mixed. Silvery tracks on soot. Ornaments on a cover of a spellbook. Sudden flash of affinity passed by.

As Malfoy withdrew from him, Harry began to question his motives. The reality struck him when their eyes met. Malfoy was behind the victory. He had planned Voldemort's fall. As a matter of fact, he would now take the position of the Dark Lord. He would rule the world and humiliate Harry. _He would humiliate me_. _This is only a way to ridicule me. A way to make me feel vulnerable. Weak. He made me feel dependent._

From the another direction, Draco was experiencing a bunch of whole new emotions. He had known for ages that he was physically attracted to the boy who hated him. For him it was gorgeous how Potter had reacted to his touch. First unwilling and resisting, then surrendering and yarning for more. He had shed a tear. Shown his feelings. Only if Draco knew how to interpret them. Sorrow? Sadness? Pain? Things you cry for. But the trace of smile he had noticed on Potter's lips… it couldn't be due to negative feelings, could it? He had heard of tears of joy, but never believed in them. Could Potter rely on him enough to show his emotions? In Malfoy family feelings were never shown, neither pain nor happiness. Going even deeper into his thoughts, Draco after all found Harry extremely cunning. Faking the fear, meant to confuse, he thought. _Damn that almighty Potter._

"Any of your deceitful schemes can't save the world this time. I know your tricks, so knock it out," Draco said with authoritative tone.

Harry was astonished. He closed his eyes and let it all flow through his mind. He gathered all his strength and acting skills.

"Draco."

Sudden sensitivity could be noted.

"It's not a trick. Come to me."

It was Malfoy's turn to be astonished. Suspicion could be seen from his eyes.

"You think I'd do something you ask me to? I don't quite agree. I have no reason to obey you. I can ignore you. Hate you, envy you, love you… whatever I like. But nothing you'd like." 

He closed the door behind him leaving Harry in complete darkness.

 


	2. Incisions

Disclaimer:      Surprisingly, all the characters belong to J.K. Rowling

_Author:            Minstrel_

Pairing:           Draco/Harry 

_Summary:        Distrust leads to distorted relationship. _

_Rating:            PG-13_

_Feedback:       Most welcome_

_Note:               Italics are used to denote thoughts. Both Draco's and Harry's._

Chapter two: Incisions

Without opening his eyes Harry knew that he was there again. Standing in the doorway, gazing to the dark cell. Every evening he came, stood there still and let his eyes caress the battered body and the filthy face of the Boy Who Lived. Every time Harry kept his eyes closed and pretended he didn't notice. Pretended he didn't care. He was determined not to bother, not to show his feelings. Opening his eyes would make him face the intense look of cold grey eyes. He could not bear it. 

Draco blinked his eyes. Why he was standing there, he didn't know. He wanted the boy lying on the floor. He wanted him so. He could have had him any moment, but he couldn't make himself move. The expressionless face, the slack body. _How could one radiate so much indifference? How do you do it? _

Harry was confused by the contradiction of his feelings. He really wanted to feel Malfoy next to him, the warmth of the memory tormented him every second. He yarned for more, but he couldn't stand another rejection. The deep-rooted hate towards the blond boy even grew.

_You really don't care. You must be incredibly strong. Dare to show any sign of weakness and you're mine._

_Why do you hate me so much? Why do you want to hurt me?_

_I will break you. I will make you whine._

_I'll lie here the rest of my life if I don't do something._

_I hate to love you._

_I love to hate you._

At the exactly same moment when Harry sat up and opened his eyes, Draco closed his and kicked Harry blindly. Acting according to his reflexes, Harry had time to lock Draco's leg under his arm and break his balance. Draco fell over Harry, astonished of the sudden change. For a moment, there was a messy heap of entangled limbs and hasty motion to unbind the awkward knot. Again, they were lying next to each other, and this time adrenaline flowed in their veins.

Draco stared Harry disbelievingly. Harry saw this, and before the other boy had time to act, he pressed his lips against Draco's. He kissed Draco fiercely, signaling that it was what he wanted. He wanted his touch. 

It took several seconds from Draco to understand the unexpected turn of the situation. He didn't foresee this happening, and at any rate, he didn't want it to happen so easily. The best things were behind the greatest efforts. Above all, he didn't want to be the one who was being kissed, but the one who kissed. He drew back his head escaping the enthusiastic lips tasting of dreams.

Harry closed his eyes again. _I don't want to go through this. I don't want to hear him mocking me. I don't want him to go._

"Look at me, Potter," Draco commanded.

"And if I don't?" Harry mumbled turning his head.

"It's not an option." Draco slapped him on the ear. It startled Harry so much, that he brought himself to meet Draco's eyes. 

Draco was still fascinated by the kiss and was about to start another one. Only on his terms this time. He caressed Harry's cheek and gazed intensively to his eyes. They reflected a mixture of feelings Draco couldn't interpret. It almost made him to back off, but a second thought made him want Harry even more. _Nothing allows you to escape me. _A quick smirk, lifting of eyebrows, and a fervent kiss.

A passionate search for common rhythm taking over them. Harry's hands on Draco's shoulders, exploring his muscular figure. Draco climbing on Harry's lap, sitting astride above his hips and pressing him down to floor. Biting of lips, taste of blood. Hands timidly unfastening the robes. Mud on the skin and the clothes. Burning eyes. Incised, torn skin touching soft, perfectly white complexion. Mutual amazement, cold shivers. A break, a breather for both of them before venturing forth.

Harry was mixed up. This was not exactly what he had wished for, but still it was better than the cold distance between them that used to exist. He wasn't really inclined to men, but he couldn't deny the pleasure he got. Even so, the break in the vigour offered him time to doubt Malfoy's motives. _Is he still after humiliation? Some sort of twisted torture perhaps? Can I retreat now, or have I gone too far?_

Oh, God. This is incredible. And incredibly easy. Why is Potter suddenly so willing again? If he wants this, I'm not going to obey him. He's my satisfaction, but I refuse to be his. 

To Harry's surprise Draco withdrew from him, stood up and turned to glance down to him. "You're pathetic, Potter" he spat and left the cell. 

Even though Harry had wished for a reason to retreat, this was too much for him. Malfoy seemed to be only using him, making him to shatter through his emotions. He curled up to keep himself warm, trying to forget the coldness of the cell when Malfoy wasn't there. His scent was lingering around him. He could still feel the touch of his skin. Eventually he started to cry.

Draco departed the cell his mind fizzing. He was still excited, and turning around and going back occurred to him in every step he took. However he couldn't. He knew he needed to stay away from this particular cell to keep the control. He needed to control his own feelings to control Potter. To fulfill his dreams.


	3. Lacerations

Disclaimer:      Surprisingly, all the characters belong to J.K. Rowling

_Author:            Minstrel_

Pairing:           Draco/Harry 

_Summary:        Distrust leads to distorted relationship. _

_Rating:            PG-13_

_Feedback:       Most welcome_

_Note:               Italics are used to denote thoughts. Both Draco's and Harry's._

Chapter three: Lacerations

Days had passed without any sign of Malfoy. Harry was happy with the situation. No more pondering or bothering because of not knowing. Now he knew. He saw clearly Malfoy's reasons. Now he had hurt Harry as much as he could; now there was no use for him anymore. He could sleep peacefully, and as he did, his physical wounds started to heal. It was oblivious that most of the cuts would leave no scar, but still he was afraid of having them. Only one had caused so much trouble and liability, so what would a horde of them do?

If Potter only knew how much Draco suffered.

Now Harry had time to explore his cell and understand the connection between the structure and purpose of it. It had taken him several days to realize that there were no Dementors near him. There were loads of them when he had arrived, but now they had disappeared. Or, they were kept far from him. Harry couldn't care less which was the case, but the brilliance of the architecture impressed him. The cell was built so that there was no escape if somebody wanted to control the prisoner. There were holes in the walls large enough to let in Dementors' gloom, but too small for making the cell more spacious. The colour of the walls was torturous –a blend of slimy greenish yellow on cold grey stone freckled by brownish spots that were apparently blood. There were objects on the floor one didn't want to touch and there was no place where one would like to look, let alone to sit or to lie. The cell itself made life bleak. Harry couldn't comprehend how one would survive there if the Dementors were added.

If Potter only knew Draco had his means to watch him from distance.

Spending time in the cell was not a big deal for Harry. He had got used to using his imagination to create most various ways to forget his environment during the long years he lived in the cupboard under the staircase at Dursleys'. Now he just had more things to daydream of, but unluckily all the things in the wizarding world reminded him of Malfoy. Quidditch and all the matches where he had confronted him. The seven all too short years in Hogwarts and annoying blonde boy on the background. But it didn't matter. He had so much of his own that Malfoy could never touch. He had his memories, his imagination. Though, disturbing flashbacks of the moments on the floor of the cell hit his mind once and a while. At those times he did all he could to forget about it. He started singing Christmas carols, he tried to remember all the portraits from the Great Hall to Gryffindor dorm, and he even tried causing physical pain by ripping the wounds open. Sometimes he could escape the unwelcome hot feelings.

If Potter only knew how puzzled Draco got when observing the manifestations of his inner battles.

Occasionally the lack of any stimuli made Harry create them himself. The imagination was not enough in the long run, and he needed things that were concrete. He started speaking to himself, and he could make rather long speeches without any meaning. Babbling unimportant details, making up lists and finding opposites for things, comparing the wizarding and muggle worlds. Many times he wished for not being alone. For having someone by his side to share the loneliness. When he remembered his friends, he used to stare into the darkness blindly. 

If Potter only knew how fascinated he made Draco by his never-ending mumble.

It started to seem probable that he would really spend the end of his life in that cell. He had learned to forget Malfoy, and now he had to reconsider him. Could he benefit from him? Could he get him out of there? As he thought over these ideas, he started to add his name into his stream of words without noticing. "---elephants are larger than hippos, five hippos needed for a herd, Malfoy herds, needing is human nature, nature is green in summer, his robes used to be green, robes must be natural, Malfoy isn't neutral, eutrophication happens in lakes---" The stream would have gone for rest of the day, but he was interrupted by Malfoy storming into the cell. Harry's mouth fell open and before he understood to close it, it was full of lips and tongue.

If Potter only knew how many times Draco had wished for this.

This time Harry was prepared. He knew exactly how to act in order not to hurt himself. Allowing Malfoy to do whatever he liked, but not doing anything himself was the answer. Not getting any pleasure out of it. Not attaching to the other boy or to his touch. Keeping his mind, Harry let Malfoy push him against the wall, kiss him fiercely, undress him, and finally realize that Harry didn't respond. Malfoy released his grip and took a step back. Without a word said they stared at each other, trying to figure out what the other one was thinking. For the first time, Harry could see unsteadiness in Malfoy's eyes, and that gave him the strength to keep staring calmly. 

As regards Draco, he couldn't bear it. He couldn't confront Potter that was so strong and self-controlled. At the moment when he decided to act, he assured himself that it was only a means to make Potter vulnerable. "I love you. Harry." He could saw a flash of astonishment in his face, but still his cover didn't falter. Potter could keep himself calm. Draco stepped closer to him to kiss him one last time. Intense look trying to see inside him, hand caressing his cheek, lips exploring his neck, and a sharp kick to his genitals. Draco left the cell. _You didn't see this coming, did you?_

Harry wasn't even surprised. After hurting himself twice with Malfoy he had accepted his behaviour. He knew he couldn't understand his reasoning, but still the words he had said confused him. Had he meant them? Had he said them to make Harry react? It was clear why Malfoy had mugged him, so it might have been the case with the words as well. Still, they kept Harry so preoccupied that he nearly hadn't even noticed the physical pain. He had already got so used to it, but the words were something new. If they were true, was all that he had gone through just because of some twisted emotion? Malfoy could have done so much more, and torment Harry so much less. It just didn't make sense, but nothing else either did.

As Harry was lost in his thoughts someone rushed into the cell. "Good God, Harry! You look terrible! Put your robes on so off we go. Make haste!" Ron ordered Harry and got a senseless look as an answer. "It's me, Ron. Are you all right? I'm here to take you home. C'mon!"

Harry couldn't believe what was happening. Mechanically he put on the pieces of clothing Malfoy had removed and followed Ron out of the cell. Hermione, who was guarding the corridor, offered Harry a hand after a burst of concern. Incomprehensibly easily they were off from Azkaban and Harry started to understand the change in the situation. He was free again. He was far from Malfoy. He was safe from the physical torture, and he got his wand back. He let Ron and Hermione tell him about all the late events, how they had actually been there to help him to defeat Voldemort but unable to prevent Malfoy from capturing Harry. How they had planned rescuing him for a long time and how they had done it. How Malfoy's reign didn't function well and how Dementors were back in their side again. Hermione kept asking about the time in Azkaban, but Harry couldn't tell a thing. He had started to believe Malfoy. He loved Harry. It made the pain of the memories even greater.

Draco watched Potter leave with his annoying friends. He let him go. It was the easiest thing for him to do. Potter was something he could never deal with. He was too attractive for Draco. Too seductive. Draco could never have the control of himself in his company. He could never be a Malfoy in front of him. He felt an emotional electric shock passing through him.

Fin.


End file.
